


Betrayal Love Revenge

by Purrfetess of MeoW (SwampWitch333)



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Murder, Other, Pain, Poetry, Revenge, Suicide, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampWitch333/pseuds/Purrfetess%20of%20MeoW
Summary: Poetry?From Vera POV to JoanInspired randomly by 'On the Nature of Daylight' - Entrophy / Pamela Rabe as Joan Ferguson posted by 'muddled freak' on YouTube; thank you for being an unknowing museFirst copy i lost so redid this~el fin~





	Betrayal Love Revenge

The hand that slaps me across the face, ungloved, the fated destiny we held so dearly, the pain they refuse to see.  
Haunted by diabolical demons delivering warning sermons for we've paved the path to hell with unspoken promises. It's too late now to turn back, they've all turned their backs to this sycophantic symphony of cicadas shedding shells and a butterfly with one wing.  
My heart, torn asunder, ripped apart, strew across the pavement like roadkill. Raw, averting their eyes, refusal to see the demise they've created, denial of what was meant to be. Words never spoken your cavernous heart echos silent screams unheard. A dead god's broken promises uphill battles we cannot ever win, to run without giving in is of little option.  
Why did you leave me?  
I will find you if it's the last thing i do, seeking vengeance for your greater good. The Fates' forsaken two, kindness miscontrued, a muddled stew of meaningful intentions  
This is my last letter, calibrated calligraphy i cannot send with no addressee and the sender hellbent on revenge.  
If i can't find you alive then I'm better off dead, too many things have been left unsaid.  
Why didn't you tell me, Joan?  
You left me alone with remnants of coded messages never to be played again a violin with broken strings and a bent neck..  
A finale with the curtain closing alit with the flames that still burn within. Don't bother praying it's too late for we've all sinned.  
The last thing they expect will come from a meek weakened butterfly who is loaded up on vodka and bullets ensuring they will die.  
No longer can i look to the skies at night and find you, if i can't have you alive, I'd rather die with you.  
That dinner.. I'm sorry..  
You deserved so much better, Joan...  
Stacked microwavable dinners on a sole refrigerator shelf as if they were stacked up like bodies in an overcrowded morgue, the chaos of wars unwon attempting to find order. Sickly sweet like milk soured left out for a week on a dusty cabinet, the pain in your eyes has become my addiction, bad habits habitually i will offend them for their offer; for sacrificing you..  
I'll climb down in the earth never to be found let our hair intertwine like vines growing around each other forgotten the besotted in death's caress eternally underground I've nothing left to confess this stress is killing me through eyes filled with tears i cannot see right from wrong anymore...


End file.
